fly (like a butterfly)
by Marvelgeek42
Summary: A family from France moved in across from the Dursleys and the Butterfly Effect is a thing that exists. [Used to be "A New Neighbour"]
1. awkward introduction

**Word Count: 584**

 **So, I've signed up for the _Language Club_ at _TGS_ and this will be a collection of the drabbles that result from that. Basically, I get a task where I have to include a language of my choosing (I chose French) in a story according to a certain prompt. The first one is: Write a story where a character introduces themselves (or tries to) in your chosen language.**

* * *

 _ **awkward introduction**_

* * *

There were new neighbours in Privet Drive the summer that Harry turned six.

It was pretty exciting, as it was the first time Harry could remember that something actually changed in her life. He hadn't expected as much as actually happened, but the biggest difference that had existed in Privet Drive before had been the various boyfriends of the teenage girl in number seven.

But now the house across from Harry—number three—that had been empty since the beginning of time as far as Harry was concerned actually had someone moving into it. And as if that wasn't perplexing enough by its own, there was also the fact that they were foreigners.

Uncle Vernon disliked that very much and actively discouraged Dudley from speaking to the child their age these people apparently had. Which, in Harry's experience just prompted the boy to do exactly that, but apparently it was something different when Uncle Vernon did it.

That only made the whole thing more amazing for Harry. If Dudley didn't tell them how much of a freak Harry was, then by all logic Harry had a genuine shot at having a friend for the first time in his life.

So it was safe to say that Harry was fairly excited when the family actually moved into the house.

Harry didn't have any chores to do outside that day—likely because his Aunt and Uncle wanted to avoid the neighbours seeing Harry or something—but that actually worked out in his favour. There was only so much to do in the house after all, and since he hadn't messed up, they had no real reason to lock him inside his cupboard and somehow it didn't occur to them to do it anyway.

So Harry was free to go out and meet the neighbours. No one had ever claimed that his aunt and uncle had all that much sense and Harry realized that even at his admittedly young age.

And that's how Harry got out of the house and onto the street, watching the new neighbour unload stuff out of the van into the house.

Before he realized it, the child he had heard about—a girl in bright yellow overalls, her hair in pigtails, and clutching a stuffed rabbit—skipped over to Harry.

"Bonjour! Je m'appelle Ameline Trottier. Et toi?" She continued speaking after that, but Harry was unable to decipher any of it, so he just stood there awkwardly.

Eventually, she must've figured out that he did not understand anything, because she called for her parents. At least Harry assumed that that was what she had done, as the woman came over.

As opposed to her daughter—probably?—she spoke English, even if it was heavily accented.

"I'm sorry for my daughter Ameline, but she does not speak English. We 'have just moved to 'here from France, you see? She has not gotten the chance to learn yet."

"It's okay," Harry replied. "It's not like I know French either. But she'll learn it which is already more than I'm doing."

The mother translated for her daughter and Ameline began to jump up and down excitedly as she began to speak again.

Harry looked at the mother, not knowing how else to react.

"She proposed that you can learn together and help each other."

Harry smiled. "I would love to do that!"

By the time the mother had finished translating, Ameline had already engulfed Harry in a hug. If this was what having friends felt like, Harry was definitely up to it.


	2. starting the conversation

**This time the prompt was: Write a story where you use at least one verb in the present tense in your chosen language. There's a catch: The verb cannot be the translation of "to be" or "to have".**

 **Word Count: 594**

* * *

 _ **starting the conversation**_

* * *

Ameline and Harry decided to play in the front of number three while Madame Trottier had to get back to helping her husband carry all of their belongings into the house.

For a moment or two, the two simply stood there, before Ameline asked. "Qu'est-ce que tu veux jouer?" while she mimicked driving a small toy car back and forth like Harry had seen dudley do before.

"Sure," he replied. Playing with these cars seemed fun and all.

Ameline, however, shook her head. "Non, non," she muttered. The expression on her face shifted. While before she had looked at Harry with an expectant look, as if trying to figure out something. She began to speak to herself, likely in an attempt to remember—Harry knew he did it occasionally—and after about a minute she perked up.

"Play!" she exclaimed, spinning around to face Harry again with an excited grin on her face. "What play?" She looked proud of herself.

"Ooh, you mean what to play. My bad." Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know too many games." He shrugged with his shoulders to illustrate his point.

Then, he got an idea. "Hey, what was the word for play again? You know in French?" He really hoped that she understood what he was saying enough for them to continue.

Luckily, she seemed to get it, if the excitement in her eyes was anything to go by. Harry wouldn't know,

"Jouer," she repeated. "Play."

"Yo-eh?" Harry attempted to copy her. He had to cringe at how wrong it sounded, but Ameline simply laughed. He saw that as a good sign.

"Non, jouer," she spoke slowly and clearly and moved her stuffed rabbit to face Harry.

Seeing the expectant look on her face, Harry tried again.

To his untrained ears, it sounded closer, but also like he had tried to say 'joy' with an accent. He didn't know which one, as he didn't get nearly enough exposure to them to be able to recognize them.

Ameline, however, didn't seem to be happy with him quite yet. She said the word again, this time at what seemed to be the normal speed, before she made the rabbit motion towards him.

Now it was Harry's time to laugh, but as soon as he had calmed down enough, he tried it one more time.

He recalled how Ameline had said it and mouthed "Jouer" before trying it a second time, only with more volume, because that had not sounded so wrong.

A bright smile could now be seen on Ameline's face, her white teeth standing out quite a bit against her dark brown skin.

"C'est tout!" she cheered.

Harry assumed that that meant he had gotten it correctly. He smiled as well and repeated the word in the correct way to make himself remember it.

Ameline clapped and then motioned to herself.

"You want to try now?" Harry asked. That seemed to be what she was after. He did some weird hand motions he wasn't sure he understood himself as he did.

It seemed to work. Ameline nodded at least. "Essayer. Tree."

Harry laughed. "No, that's tree," he pointed at the tree in number three's backyard. She looked at it. "Arbre. Tree."

"But we were doing try," Harry reminded her. "Tree can be the next one."

"Tree." Ameline nodded. "Essayer."

"Try," Harry repeated the word slower, just like she had done before.

"Tri?"

It was closer, but not quite there, so Harry repeated it again.

"Try?"

"You got it!" Harry cheered. "Now me again. E-say-yeah. was it?"

* * *

 **Guest: Thank you! Well, I suppose that would have been a possibility. Hopefully you'll like this!**


	3. back across the street

**Yup, I renamed this story. I like it better this way.**

 **The scene I wanted to write for Chapter 2 still has not happened.**

 **Also when Harry thinks of 'alle', it's actually 'aller', but Harry has no way of knowing that.**

 **Word Count: 608**

* * *

 ** _back across the street_**

* * *

Harry had to go back to Number Four when he saw his Aunt Petunia coming back from the store with Dudley. His cousin was holding a big ice cream cone, likely for no particular reason at all and equally likely not the first such threat for the day.

The very second Harry spotted them, he bolted upright from his spot in the grass, next to Ameline. His new friend—probably? It wasn't like Harry knew how this worked—must be very confused.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I have to go back." Harry looked around, but Madame Trottier wasn't currently outside and he didn't dare to speak to her husband without knowing the kind of person he was.

Looking back at Ameline, he tried to convey his struggle somehow. They hadn't gotten to those kind of words yet—also he had honestly already forgotten a few of them, but hopefully they would get a chance to repeat this soon.

"Tu dois y aller déjà, Harry?" she asked, picking the stuffed rabbit—lapin in French, Harry had learned that today, but it's name was Tobie—up from the place where it had rested on the grass near her.

 _Alle_ was also a word Harry had learned today, so he had a pretty good guess of what Ameline was saying. It meant 'go'.

"Oui." Harry nodded. "I'm sorry." He motioned to Petunia and Dudley who were luckily held up by the Lady of Number Seven exchanging gossip which gave Harry a bit more time.

But Dudley was almost done with his ice cream, so it wasn't all that much in the end.

"I will get in trouble if I stay too long. See you tomorrow?" he added hopefully.

It took Ameline a minute until she understood—or guessed? Or maybe a combination of both?—what he meant, but then she smiled and nodded.

Then, she dashed towards Harry and hugged him. It was already their second hug, despite only knowing each other for a couple of hours, which was more than Harry could ever remember happening before.

It was more than wonderful, really. He kind of felt like he was already used to it, which, to be honest, kind of scared him.

Getting this taken away would be horrible.

Which is why he detached himself from Ameline when he saw that Dudley's ice cream would only last five more seconds, at most.

"See you tomorrow," he promised.

Ameline replied something that he assumed was the same in French.

Harry moved to the sidewalk—waving as he did so—stopping to check for cars, and then sprinting across the street.

He made it back to the lawn of Number Four just at the moment where Dudley started his tantrum, so for all his aunt knew, he had never left. Vernon was still at work, after all, and it wasn't like Petunia would focus on him before she had to.

Harry crept into the house silently, carefully closed the door behind him, and moved into his cupboard.

It didn't take long until Petunia and Dudley entered the house again. Dudley was quickly hushed to the TV—the one in the living room, not his own for some reason—and Petunia loudly ordered Harry to start dinner.

But it was alright. Harry had had a wonderful day, he didn't even mind cooking all that delicious looking and smelling food and only getting a bit of bread and a glass of water himself as much as he usually did.

He had a friend now and friends made everything better. He could see that being true already.

And that night Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face for the first time he could recall.


	4. knock on the door

**This time it is not for the Language Club at TGS, but for Wizarding Languages at Hogwarts, because the prompt was 'Language Barrier' and come on.**

 **Word Count: 646**

* * *

 _ **knock on the door**_

* * *

The next morning, Harry got up and prepared breakfast for Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley before his aunt even had a chance to ask him to.

He hadn't been able to sleep long as he just could not wait to see Ameline again. And the earlier he got up, the faster he would be done with his chores. There were only so many Petunia and Vernon could give him—not to forget that they always tended to give him less if they liked the way Harry behaved. Which usually meant not speaking unless asked a question, doing everything he is told to do, and spending as little time as possible in the Dursley's presence.

The last one wasn't even a challenge. It was something he would have done anyways. The thought of receiving any positive attention from them had been scrapped years ago.

He wasn't dumb, he knew that they didn't see him as family. It wasn't like they tried to hide it, or anything. No, they made it more than obvious.

And they weren't Harry's family either. No one ever thought so, so why should he think it? He just called them Aunt and Uncle when speaking to them, because this was such an avoidable reason for them to get mad and there was no point in provoking them.

At least not for this. There were things were it was worth it, but this wasn't one of them.

Anyway, the point being that Harry behaved like an obedient servant all morning, but not quite enough so that Petunia and Vernon would know he was up to something. He made sure that he never was _too_ good or _too_ bad at a time. Mostly, he tried to be somewhere in the middle, so that neither being very good nor very bad was too weird.

It worked out almost always. Today was not one of those days were it failed. Petunia just told Harry to handle the laundry once they were all done with breakfast. He could do that. That was easy.

There was a knock on the door before Harry was done. He moved to the hall to open the door, but apparently Petunia was expecting someone, because she actually moved towards it and silently ordered Harry to get back to work.

And he was going to do that, really, he was. He had to get done quickly, after all.

But then, he heard the voice at the door.

"Bonjour, Madame! Harry peut-il sortir et jouer?"

It was Ameline's voice.

Oh, this could end very bad if Harry knew Petunia at all. Which he did.

"I am sorry," Petunia replied. Harry could practically see the annoyed and disgusted expression on her face. "I can't seem to understand you."

Understand was one of the words that they had covered yesterday, so he could imagine the recognition on her face as she clutched Tobie the _lapin_.

"Je demandais si Harry pouvait jouer avec moi," she said, more than likely with a wide smile on her face.

"What are you saying?" Petunia, questioned. She sounded annoyed enough that she'd likely make a comment that Harry really didn't want his new friend to her.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. "She is asking if I can play with her."

"Bonjour, Harry!" Ameline waved at him, moving her body enough that her pigtails were moving.

As much as Harry wanted to focus on her, he couldn't. He had to keep his eyes on Petunia to see what she would do. He wasn't sure what to expect. More than that, he didn't dare to exclude anything. She could decide that her — and Vernon — not wanting Dudley association with the Trottiers — even by proxy — was more important, or that Harry being out of her sight was better for her.

Somehow, it ended up being the latter, much to Harry's delight.


End file.
